


Mornings With You

by Demon_Apostle



Series: Dragon Age Keep [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:49:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5771941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demon_Apostle/pseuds/Demon_Apostle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up might be different for everyone but with you, it's perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings With You

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of the Dragon Age series. I didn't really have a reason to write this and just thought it would be a nice little story.

**1) **Zevran and Mahariel** **

 

This had probably been the first time he was able to fully wake up before Zevran. Gadrial was so stunned that he managed to stare at the other elf until the sun’s rays had moved a few inches away from their bed as it shined through the window. Making sure that he did indeed wake up first, Gadrial watched patiently and listened to Zevran’s even breathing. He wanted to make sure the Antivan wasn’t pulling a prank on him, pretending to be asleep just so he could fool Gadrial into thinking that he had opened his eyes first.

 

To some, it was a trivial thing, waking up before your lover. But for Gadrial, to always be the elf that continued to sleep while the sun was at its highest until perfectly placed kisses and touches roused him from slumber, he was overjoyed that he could now be the one who wakes Zevran. He wants to, but the sight before him is both peaceful and laughable. Zevran, the picture of refined and graceful, had his mouth almost gaping with the side of his face smooshed into the pillow. His golden hair fell over his neck and was flowing in waves behind him. Even more hilarious was the small amount of drool that had accumulated next to his face. Gadrial continued to stare, holding back his chuckles in fear of waking Zevran and not being able to see this once in a lifetime sight ever again.

 

When Zevran finally did wake up, his eyes met Gadrial’s in a sleepy haze. The Dalish elf watched as realization slowly etched itself on his lover’s face, mouth snapping close and tongue sneaking out to lick away some of the drool on the side of his mouth. His hand soon took care of the rest as he sat up, hands trying to flatten the more outrageous parts of his hair. Neither said anything until Gadrial could no longer hold back his laughter and had to apologize at Zevran’s annoyed expression.

 

“I’m sorry but your sleeping face was just too much.” Zevran mumbled incoherently before almost throwing his weight on the still chuckling elf beside him. Gadrial let out a noise of protest at the sudden weight now crushing his sternum with his arm pinned to his side. The position proved to be too much for the other elf as his laughing turned to wheezing and it was impossible to move the Antivan with how Gadrial’s body was pinned. After a few more futile attempts to free himself, Gadrial finally gave up.

 

“I give, I give! I’m sorry for laughing!” Zevran removed his weight from the other elf and smiled cockily at Gadrial who was now breathing heavily and giving off a small glare.

 

“Was that necessary?” Zevran shrugged and stretched out the kinks in his back and arms.

 

“I was merely getting payback for being laughed at. I’m sure you’d have done the same, no?” Zevran leaves the bed to begin putting on his armor while Gadrial stares at him with a raised brow.

 

“So I’m allowed payback for the many mornings I woke up just to hear you go on about my insane bed head?” Zevran didn’t pause in his actions but turned around to grin at the other elf.

 

“I never said you weren’t now did I amour?” Oh, Gadrial was so going to remember that tomorrow morning. He’ll definitely get his payback… although he might hold off for one day since he got to see that laughable yet cute side of Zevran.

 

****2) Hawke and Fenris** **

 

Fenris felt like he was drowning. He could barely breathe, his body being restrained and something was trying to clog his windpipe. Every part of his body felt heavy and sluggish and his eyes burned. Of all the things he had reasons to hate, mornings were near the top of the list. His eyes burned because of the sun peeking through the curtains and trying to blind him. His body felt heavy and restrained because of the massive man currently clinging to him for dear life in his sleep. His throat felt clogged because of said man’s hair trying to crawl down his throat. Mornings were definitely something Fenris had come to deeply despise. Even without Hawke trying to smother him in his sleep, it was still a troublesome task of trying to wake up in the mornings. Hawke just added to that annoyance.

 

Lucky that he could still reach his face with one of his hands, Fenris removed the long red strands from his mouth. Honestly, he didn’t know why Hawke kept his hair so long. What was even more puzzling was why he didn’t leave his hair in its normal braid while he slept. It would definitely make a few things easier for Fenris since it would probably keep him from choking to death in his sleep. Now free to breathe, Fenris had to worry about getting out of Hawke’s death grip without waking the man. While the elf wanted nothing more than to continue laying in Hawke’s arms and exchange lazy kisses once he woke up, he might suffocate to death before that happened.

 

Slowly, Fenris removed the arm wrapped around his chest and lifted himself from the bed. He quietly moved off the bed as he slowly laid Hawke’s arm by the man’s side, grateful he didn’t have to contend with the warrior’s legs. Finally free, Fenris let out a sigh and stretched his cramped muscles. He heard Hawke groan and the sheets shift as the man under them rolled onto his back. Fenris smiled at the unconscious chewing motion of Hawke’s jaw, giving the impression that he was no doubt dreaming about eating. Fenris took a peek out the window still somewhat covered by curtains and took note about the sun’s position. Hawke would wake up soon, slightly upset that Fenris didn’t make him get up sooner but the elf would counter with the argument that Hawke needed his rest. He’d be right since the man had barely gotten any sleep these past few weeks, what with helping clean up the aftermath of the mess the Arishok left behind. It might have been a while since Hawke had defeated the qunari but the scars on the people and the city were not completely healed yet.

 

Figuring he might as well get ready for the day, Fenris shed the massive robe Hawke let him borrow and began slipping on the pieces of his armor. Just as he had grabbed the gauntlets, he heard Hawke groan his name and the sheets shift again, signaling that the man was finally awake. Fenris did not turn or acknowledge that Hawke was awake as he slipped on his gauntlets, waiting for the scenario he knew was coming. Indeed, once Hawke saw how high the sun was outside, he began rushing to get dressed.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me? I have a ton of things to do today.” Hawke didn’t raise his voice but Fenris heard the small amount of anger. Instead of getting angry back, Fenris put on a small smile and walked over to Hawke who was having trouble buckling one of the straps of his armor.

 

“I didn’t wake you because you need your sleep. You were starting to look like someone had given you two black eyes. And don’t tell me you’re fine, Hawke.” Said man quickly snapped his mouth shut and sighed as he let Fenris help with the straps he couldn’t reach. It was only when he looked up did he notice that Hawke’s hair was still out of control and sticking out everywhere. Chuckling, Fenris grabbed the brush on the nightstand and told Hawke to sit in a nearby chair. Hawke didn’t argue despite his earlier annoyance at waking up later than he wanted. They sat in silence as Fenris softly brushed out the knots and began gathering the hair to tie together. Fenris was about to start on the braid when Hawke caught his attention and turned his head.

 

“Fenris.” The elf was beckoned closer so he lowered himself towards Hawke, expecting the man to say something. Instead, what he got was a kiss on the lips and a wide smile.

 

“Thank you.” Fenris returned the smile.

 

“Any time, Hawke.”

 

****3) Dorian and Lavellan** **

 

Cyros was not a morning person. Nearly everyone in Skyhold was aware of the elf’s deep hatred for mornings. They were also aware that you did not wake the Inquisitor carelessly unless you were prepared to have a fireball thrown at you or become a new decoration to the fortress as an ice statue. The servants became so afraid that none dared climb the stairs into the Inquisitor’s chamber without insisting a Templar or mage go with them, someone who would be able to protect them in case Cyros began trying to strike the servants with lightening. Thankfully, Dorian had taken it upon himself to be the one who would wake the Inquisitor every morning, saying that since he was such a handsome mage, he’d be able to protect himself in case his good looks didn’t stop the Inquisitor who would be too enthralled to attack. Despite the unlikelihood that good looks alone would stop the person from being burned to death, no one was willing to argue.

 

Dorian had quickly learned why Cyros was quick to lash out despite the precautions some of the servants took when waking the elf. It wasn’t because he hated mornings, but because the anger that he showed when woken stemmed from nightmares and past memories. The Anchor only added to the elf’s fury, making his nightmares seem so vivid that he could rarely tell dreams from reality the moment he woke. After hearing about what his Amatus was going through during sleep, Dorian made it his mission to not further upset the Inquisitor when morning came and instead make it one of the best moments of his life. Since he rarely ever slept in his own bed anymore, Dorian spent his nights with Cyros. Even though not all nights came to a close with the both of them spent and sweating, every morning was the same.

 

Dorian would wake up first, always had ever since he was a child, and would find his elven lover wrapped securely in his arms. Some nights showed signs of nightmares while others seemed like his sleep had been peaceful but the Tevinter mage knew otherwise. Dorian would wait a little longer before trying to wake Cyros, whether he did so or the elf did of his own accord, but he would wait. After that, he spent the next few minutes calling Cyros’ name softly and pressing kisses everywhere his mouth could reach. He did not hold onto the elf too tightly but never removed his arms since it would be easier to quickly restrain Cyros in case his morning ritual didn’t work. Though, it had yet to fail. Slowly, the elf opened his eyes, nerves calm and a sense of safety washing over Cyros. When he found the source, he snuggled closer to the other mage and pressed a soft kiss to Dorian’s collarbone.

 

“Morning, ma vhenan.” Dorian returned the affection with a kiss to the top of Cyros’ head.

 

“Morning, Amatus. Any urges to set me on fire right now?” Cyros huffed at being teased about his bad morning behavior.

 

“Lucky for you, I don’t feel like it right now. Give it a few more weeks and maybe you’ll find yourself waking up as a piece of coal.”

 

“At least I’ll be a pretty one.” It was all a joke but really, both worried of the day when Dorian’s ritual didn’t work and the Inquisitor really did end up lashing out at him. For now, at least, they could enjoy the mornings where Cyros didn’t try to maim Dorian and instead prepared himself for the brutal day with lazy kisses and hushed words of love for each other.


End file.
